


How Rex was almost blown up but, at least, he wasn't eaten by a wild eopie

by Gabriel4Sam



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Hermit!Obi-Wan, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, Rebel Era, Rebel!Obi-Wan, Rebel!Rex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 21:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20803451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/pseuds/Gabriel4Sam
Summary: Lovers are not supposed to go together on mission and there is a really good reason for that.Will Rex have to choose between his lover and the Senator incarnating the Rebel Alliance ?





	How Rex was almost blown up but, at least, he wasn't eaten by a wild eopie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Captainrexsbiggestho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainrexsbiggestho/gifts).

> I would like to thank myurbandream, who beta-ed this little fic with great patience. Thank you so much!

Ash was obscuring the air and Rex’s ears were ringing. He needed a few seconds to determine why the world seemed sideways: it was because he was lying flat on the ground. He rolled over with a pained groan, spitting out some dirt and half-decomposed leaves.

What….

Where…

He shook his head, like it could reboot his brain, but put that in the bad idea category when his pulsing headache immediately intensified.

Where the kriff….

No, first things first, was there a chance people would shoot at him in the next few minutes? Because it was more or less a daily occurrence and he was feeling too badly right now to add a few burn wounds from blasters.

Cautiously, he raised his head, watching for impromptu Imperials, bounty hunters, or crazy Sith. The usual, in a way.

Since nobody tried to kill him right away, he crept over to the nearest tree big enough to act as cover and tried to remember how he had landed himself in this situation.

There had been… there had been a mission, and he would surely remember everything, if his head would just stop ringing.

There had been a mission, with the young Rebel Alliance, and Rex had volunteered. He had been on Alderaan at the time… He had been on Alderaan, with Obi-Wan, because young Leia had terrible nightmares, and the Organa family had called Obi-Wan to help, terrified that Leia would unknowingly call Vader (or Sidious) in her sleep, would make herself vulnerable.

They had been on Alderaan and Obi-Wan was supposed to go back to Tatooine the next week, and Rex was supposed to go with him for a week of downtime, before an important mission in the Hapes Consortium. It was then that the news had come. Mon Mothma had narrowly escaped death on Coruscant. One of the Alliance operatives, a woman named Motée who Rex had met a few times, even worked with, had rescued Mon Mothma from the transport taking her to prison, awaiting a trial where she would certainly be declared an enemy of the Empire and executed. Now the two women needed extraction from the space station, a few systems from Coruscant, where their ship had fallen apart.

Rex had learned a few things that day.

One, Motée and Mon Mothma were two of the members of the long list of past lovers Obi-Wan had had, a list Rex always did his best to not think of, because it made him feel like a bumbling amateur on this particular subject.

Two, Obi-Wan was apparently bored enough on Tatooine (a planet where life was cheap and where, as Beru had once confided to Rex, Obi-Wan apparently couldn’t go a week without troubles with Tuskens/Jabba’s goons/slavers/all of the above) that going on a dangerous mission only a few systems from Coruscant, when he was still one of the most wanted men in the Empire, seemed like a good idea to him.

Rex had abandoned the effort to convince Obi-Wan against taking the rescue mission twenty minutes into their spectacular row. When Obi-Wan was like that, trying to make him change his mind was fruitless.

“A bath,” Rex had said, “and then to bed.” 

His lover had scowled at him from the corner of his eyes. 

“Oh for Force’s sake… I still think you’re acting like an idiot," Rex had said, "and I regret that coming along to protect you is impossible, since I have to head off for the Hapes mission soon. But I’m not letting you leave on a sour note. So, no more talk about this idiotic, death-wish idea of yours. Warm water and your sexy lover in it. And perhaps when we're clean, I'll feel better enough about that mess to fuck the stupidity out of you.”

And then of course, because Rex (as a deserter from the Imperial Army) was only slightly less wanted than Obi-Wan, he had decided to go with the Jedi on that rescue mission after all. He had nagged Wolffe until his brother accepted the Hapes mission in his stead and… Obi-Wan had had the nerve to ask if it was really reasonable, as Rex's face was too well-known to risk himself so close to Coruscant.

What had happened after that?

Yes, he had decided this rescue mission was a good opportunity to field-test one of the gadgets from Alliance Intelligence, some prosthesis supposedly good enough to make a human pass for a Twilek. He had sacrificed, with a note of despair, his beard. Then he had almost been strangled to death by the damn prosthetic lekku, which had made Obi-Wan cackle, a very un-Jedi-like reaction in Rex’s opinion. But the Jedi had still helped with the prosthesis and the make-up on his face.

The prosthesis.

Rex groped around his left ear, searching for the emergency release catch, and the whole thing came apart, taking with it a good part of the headache. Rex turned it, examined it. The prosthesis apparently made for a good helmet: half of it was charred and ripped apart, but it had probably saved his life.

It had probably saved his life  _ when someone had tried to blow them up _ , on the moon where they were supposed to ditch the public transport shuttle used to extract Mon Mothma and Motée from the space station, and to join an Alliance ship waiting for them.

Rex stood up and, blaster in hand, he went to search for Mon Mothma. He had credits in his belt, if necessary he could take her to an Alliance hideout a few systems from here and come back later to search for the other two.

He was trying not to think about Obi-Wan. Rex had definitely seen him fall, but the Senator was the first, the only priority. She needed to live, even if his lover died for it. Mon Mothma was a beacon of hope in a way few people could be, and they couldn’t let that hope die.

Kriff… that’s why smart armies didn’t send lovers as agents on the same mission! Because even if Rex knew his duty, his heart was raging, demanding Obi-Wan as the first, the only priority!

Of course, because nothing had ever been easy for Rex, the first person he found was neither the one he wanted to for duty, nor the one he wished to for love, but the one he had (he could admit it in the privacy of his brain) totally forgotten in the adrenaline: Motée, the operative of the Rebel Alliance.

Her shoulder was bleeding, but she was quite busy interrogating a trembling Devanorian, with a small blaster so close that the poor idiot was squinting at the menacing barrel.

“Where?” Rex asked.

“I'll know in a minute,” Motée answered, and indeed, she did. Whoever had trained her before her time in the Alliance had done a good job. They only needed three hours to find the bounty hunters. It was, and Rex was quite vexed by this, a big collection of idiots. Amateurs, served by incredible luck, who thought they had made such a catch, simultaneously capturing the newly wanted Senator and the infamously known General Kenobi, two traitors to the Empire. The bounty hunters had been lucky,  _ until _ Rex and Motée had arrived to rescue the two red heads. And the moment where Motée had broken down Obi-Wan’s Force suppression collar was the moment things really took a turn towards the ugly for the bounty hunters.

A few lightsaber-severed hands on the ground later, the four Rebels were escaping. Motée was piloting, and Rex was bandaging his head and having a crisis of self-worth.

Ten years ago, at the end of the war, Rex was sure they would have been quicker to rescue his lover and the Senator, but today, he was pretty sure he had slowed down Motée.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he grumbled, watching his face in the mirror to be sure the bacta was correctly applied.

It wasn’t the first time he thought that and once, a few months ago, a drunken Gregor had confessed the same thing. In his darkest insomnia-filled nights, Rex feared it was true, that his usefulness on the field was getting thinner every day. Time passed rapidly for the clones, engineered to grow up quickly, and soon he would be reduced to training new recruits, slowly going mad because he couldn’t take a more direct approach to destroying the darkness that was taking over the galaxy.

Would he ever see the end of the Empire?

Would all his still-enslaved brothers be decommissioned because they were getting too old, before rescue came for them?

He sat down heavily on the bunk, at the same moment Obi-Wan entered the small cabin.

“Motée plotted our way to the safest rendezvous point. We have three days of travel ahead of us.”

“Don’t know why they sent anyone,” Rex remarked, “she really didn’t need help to bring the Senator to safety.”

“Naboo’s handmaidens are strong and wise.”

“She was… that’s why she was so kriffin familiar! She looks…”

“Yes, she looks like Padmé would have, if she had had the chance to age past her twenties.”

Obi-Wan sat down next to him and put his hands on Rex's cheeks to inspect his wounds.

“If I hadn’t insisted on going on this mission, we would be on Tatooine right now and you wouldn’t have been hurt,” Obi-Wan said.

“Cyare, thinking like that is the way to madness. Our ship could have crashed down in your damn desert, I could have been eaten by a wild eopie-“

“A wild eopie, really?”

“-what I'm saying is that you can’t play the what if game, and even if I get killed one day, it certainly won’t be your fault.”

Obi-Wan made a self-deprecating sound, which didn’t surprise Rex for a second. Instead, he threw his arms around the Jedi’s shoulders and hung on until Obi-Wan got the message. He guided their bodies until they were lying on the too-small bunk, so close together that Rex wasn’t sure which limbs were his.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Obi-Wan said.

“I didn’t-“

“You did.”

“You would have-“

“We can’t be sure of that, any more than we could be sure that you would have been safe on Tatooine.”

Rex grunted, amused despite himself.

“ A vacation in your crazy desert,” he declared, like it was an order, “and I hope nobody tries to kill us for at least ten days. No, fifteen!”

“You aren’t choosing the right planet, if that's your objective, love.”

“I’m choosing the perfect planet, since it’s yours,” Rex said and even if he couldn’t see Obi-Wan, snuggled behind him, he just knew the other man was blushing.

Rex drifted into sleep, content to feel Obi-Wan safe and close against him.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr too, under the same username, come and say hi!


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